Reflextions

I sit in quiet contemplation of all that life means, its triumphs, its pitfalls, my reason for being. The solitude of this place, its resolute and comfort consumes me. Seemingly shattered yet completely whole I search here for answers to questions that beg my study.

I leave this sanctuary cleansed, purified of mind, body and soul. Were it not for quiet reflection, to my anxieties would I surrender, to my confusion and fear would I not confront. This place where I go…my inner self, my own mind.

Pastel shades blend a virginal sky
Naked, resplendant, backdrop serene
This place of refuge, of solitude
I go oft in haste, reflect upon
Tears shed in anger, laughter and pain
Is this all there is, resentingly
Stillness blankets disquiet of mind
Inhale purity, absent mankind
Eyes transfixed to a point deep within
Cavernous hollow, I imagine
A world without fear, save consequence
Tumultuous conflict, unresolve
My gaze now panning this scene surreal
In silent repose, of nothingness
Trees postured awkwardly, limbs are void
Of dressing, craggy lung lineage
Distant murmor, strained cry of a Loon
Captures the essence, soft voice to scene
An insect’s water dance stark contrast
Shuddered diffusion propagates waves
Gently rolling in outward release
To dissipate unwaveringly
Vanished by dispersion, cast aside
Unspoken reflection, realise

copyright 2008, Don MacIver

Minstrel’s Song

On weathered leather of piano stool
Postured songster croons a poetic churn
Smooth as butter yet with a rustic spin
Octaves played out, slow pentatonic verse
Ivory keys dance by gnarled fingers’ touch
Blistered, weeping digits play minstel song
Notes of pain and anger, words bitterly
Interrogate, chastise indifference
Of benign passersby, a wary glance
At this wordsmith decrying modern man
A scourge of society, whispered prose
Faint samplings of humanity eagerly
Bemused, his angst tempered by waning smile
Rhythmic notes linger, foot pedal caress
This barter of utterance lost in time
Walks to a beat of a different drum
Eyes turned away, tears fall in misery
His blackface painted somber, minstrel sings

copyright 2008 Don MacIver

Teardrops From Heaven

First drops followed by a lifetime more
Wind driven cascade of images
Reflections of past humanity
Crying out, voiceless with empty gaze
In a jolt of lightning, cloudburst rage
Freefall translucent, lost memories
Droplets mirror faith, molecular
Diffused energy drifting away
Laughter drowned by sorrow, weeping tears
Stained by the blood of their gaping wounds
Gone before their time, unfulfilled quest
To love, to live without sacrifice
Immortal beings in disbelief
Their demise imminent, teardrops fall
On dreams of tomorrow, unwavering

Thunder’s rumble distant, shuddering
Amid cloudscapes blackened, billowing
Release of whispers, encapsulate
The voice of tomorrow, Heavenly

copyright 2008 Don MacIver

Old Values Live

Perhaps kindness is weigning, a dying trend, where once the Golden Rule was the accepted norm.

Whatever happened to politeness of old, caring for each other without repremand. To be sensured for

making another’s life easier, a sign of the times, unacceptable. In a world full of hate and

disrespect we must hold on to those values we used to embrace. Please extend a hand…with a smile

today.

Call me old fashioned, a dinosour
Extending kindness to someone unknown
A door held open, smile upon face
Brief pause for thankyous, kindly exchange

Embracing old values handed down
Chivalrous gestures, well-intentioned
Courteous passage through open door
Lady or gentleman…nothing more

Indignant defiance, utterance
Refuting politeness, ignorance
Feigned social graces, in disrespect
Turn away in anger, castigate

Human decency overshadowed
By self-centered rudeness, indulgence
Old values live on through yesterday
A page in the past, obsolescence

Faded memory, benevolence
A sign of weakness, certainly not
An outstretched hand, a brotherly glance
Acknowledge respect, reciprocate

Moments of friendship, equality
A greater sense of community
Unselfish giving, warm-hearted pride
For values sustained, community

copyright 2008 Don MacIver